


Chronicle of an Ice Fae

by Shiyaki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Birthday Fluff, Flashbacks, Harry's parents are alive, M/M, figure skating, fluff in general
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9451853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiyaki/pseuds/Shiyaki
Summary: It's Harry's 25th birthday and one present in particular sends everyone down memory lane.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So very AU (no Voldemort for starters) and pretty much my excuse to write VictorxHarry and lots of fluff.

„I think, it’s time for presents!“ Grinning widely, Sirius ushered his godson from the dining room, where they had just indulged in birthday cake, to the private sitting room and pushed him down on a Gryffindor red loveseat. Everyone else gathered around the birthday boy and rolled their eyes at the great Lord Black, who was more excited than Harry himself.

“Unwrap mine first!” With a flick of his wand, Sirius summoned a distinctive looking package and pressed it into the young man’s hands.

“Padfoot, you didn’t…” Harry uttered a sigh, but the anticipation in his eyes was unmistakeable as he tore the wrapping paper off the object. As expected, it turned out to be the newest Firebolt model, which had hit the stores about two month ago.

“Sirius, are you crazy? This broom is ridiculously expensive,” the brunet complained (like every year when he got an extravagant present from his godfather), while his fingers were lovingly running over the smooth, dark wood.

“I know, I paid for it, but you’re my only godson and that gives me the right to spoil you rotten,” the older man countered as usual and smirked.

“That…- Well…, thank you very much, Padfoot. Let’s try it out later.” Smiling lopsidedly at his smug godfather, Harry carefully set his new broom aside to accept the next present from his uncle Peter and his wife Mary – A black suitcase with a muggle phoenix in mid-flight depicted on it.

“Your other one is pretty old and battered, so we thought you’d need a new one. It’s got adjustable expansion and feather light charms on it and a few other spells to make it durable,” Peter explained with an uncertain quirk of his lips, while Mary calmly patted his arm.

“It’s awesome, thank you. I had planned to buy a new suitcase soon. My old one is just about ready to fall apart.” Harry eyed the detailed firebird one more time, before sliding the suitcase next to the broom.

The following package was squishy and very neatly wrapped. Even without knowing beforehand whose present he held in his hands, Harry would have put all his money on Remus. At first the brunet tried to unknot the silver gift ribbon, but after two minutes of frustrating fiddling he gave up and cut through it with a severing charm. The wrapping paper quickly followed.

“It’s feels a bit weird to gift you a winter coat in the middle of summer,” Remus mused as Harry fingered the black fabric and the emerald swirls at the hems, before getting up and putting the coat on.

“Fits perfectly and I like the design. Thanks Moony.” The brunet quickly took the coat off again though, because otherwise he might have started to melt.

“You’re quite welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

“Now meee.” Grinning at least as much as Harry’s slightly crazy godfather had done, Acacia, his fifteen year old baby sister, dropped a sloppily wrapped present into his lap. She couldn’t wrap anything nicely to save her life, but her presents were usually very well thought out.

Just like this one. Perhaps…

For a moment Harry stared at the big book in his lap, especially the golden letters on the cover of it.

“’Chronicle of an Ice Fae’… really?” The brunet raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his sister, who didn’t look sorry whatsoever. ‘Ice Fae’ was a nickname he had got at Hogwarts. Considering no such creatures existed and fairies ranged from well-meaning brownies to redcaps who soaked their caps in their victim’s blood, he was still quite unsure what the name was supposed to even _mean_. But, well, it could have been worse. They could have dubbed him ‘Ice Nymph’ or something ridiculous like that and he in no way wanted to be associated with those antisocial, vicious creatures, thank you very much. Not to mention that all nymphs were female as a rule.

“Wow, is this the finished photo album?” Beaming from ear to ear, Harry’s boyfriend Victor eagerly dropped onto the loveseat and wrapped both arms around the brunet’s shoulders. “Open it! I want to see more photos of you, when you were small. You were a really cute child.”

Harry apprehensively eyed his sister through narrowed eyes.

“Is there anything humiliating in this?” Because one never knew with Acacia, who had inherited their father’s mischievous personality.

“You’ll just have to find out, brother dear. Just know that a lot of people chipped in to create it.”

Grumbling quietly, the brunet flipped the scrapbook open and had to promptly cover his ear when Victor squealed. Sometimes he was quite amazed by the man’s vocal range.

The first two pages featured four moving photographs of the lake behind Potter Manor in winter with a bunch of colourful comments written around them. The first showed a four year old Harry trying and failing to stay standing on a pair of skates. On the second photograph his usually self-assured dad and even cockier godfather were clinging to each other in a futile effort to remain upright, while Remus was leisurely skating around in the background. The third featured Lily holding Harry’s hands and slowly gliding over the ice, while on the fourth the brunet skated forwards on his own, albeit a bit shakily.

“Like I said, very cute. This is your first time skating, right?” Victor wondered and rested his head against Harry’s to get more comfortable.  The brunet happily leant farther into the embrace and hummed in agreement.

“The comments say so. I can’t actually remember this, though.”

“It’s no surprise, dear, it happened more than twenty years ago, after all,” Lily chimed in. “It’s unfortunate. It was a pretty hilarious day in general and an important one for you.”

* * *

 

“Lily, are you _really_ sure this is safe?” James wondered for the sixth time in about ten minutes and tapped the frozen water once again with the toe of his shoe. Lily determinedly suppressed the urge to strangle him, rolled her eyes instead and finished lacing her son’s ice skates.

“It’s a lot less dangerous than the toy broom he got for his birthday.”

“But what if the ice breaks and he falls into the lake?  Or if he breaks his arm or leg or _both_?”

“The ice is thick enough, I checked, it won’t break and you put cushioning charms on every inch of his body.” Not to mention her son’s fluffy, blue coat that was excellent padding on its own. “Even when he falls, Harry will barely feel it. Now put on your skates.”

“Can’t I just-“

“No, Peter will take the photographs, so hurry up, James. Sirius, stop poking your skates and put. Them.  _On_!”

Both brunets grumbled but did as they were told.

Uttering a longsuffering sigh, the redhead turned back to her son, who looked up at her with big, sparkling eyes, while bouncing around on the chair she had conjured to put his skates on.

“Mummy, can we start now? Pretty please?”

“Sure, sweety, come on.”

Beaming, Harry got up and quickly latched onto his mother’s coat when he started to lose his balance.  Lily took his tiny, gloved hands into hers and carefully led him onto the frozen lake. The little brunet wobbled some more, but managed to stay upright without clutching her hands too much.

“You’re doing very well, Harry,” Lily praised with a proud smile and deliberately ignored the muttered swearing from her husband and Sirius, who were both trying and failing to get off the ground. “Let’s try to skate to uncle Remus, okay?” Said man stopped a couple of feet away from them and offered Harry an encouraging smile.

The brunet nodded and obviously concentrated very hard on keeping his balance, while his mother pulled him farther onto the ice. When they reached the tawny-haired werewolf, Harry nibbled on his bottom lip, his contemplative gaze locked on his skates and the ice. Finally he looked up, a determined gleam shining in his eyes.

“I want to do it alone.”

“Are you sure? I can hold your hands for a bit longer, if you want,” Lily offered, even though she knew it was a moot question.

“Nu-uh, want to try it on my own!” Harry refused stubbornly and tried to get his hands out of his mother’s grip.

“Alright, but be careful, okay?” There might be a myriad of cushioning charms on him, but it was still a good idea to caution him. Her little darling was pretty adventurous, after all. Lily carefully relinquished her grip and within seconds Harry landed on his bottom. He blinked in surprise, but instead of crying or asking for her help, he quickly tried to get back on his feet.

And tried over and over, until he finally managed to stand relatively steady on the ice. 

By the time the sun went down, Harry was even capable of skating in a straight line without falling once; therefore he quickly started tearing up when it was finally time to return indoors.

James, never able to refuse his son anything when the floodgates opened, promised another trip to the lake on the following day. 

And it wouldn’t be the last.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of different feelings in this chapter, basically a rollercoaster

“Harry went back to the lake almost every day, because _some_ people can’t say ‘no’ to him.” Lily directed a very significant look at James and Sirius, who smiled innocently back at her.

“When the ice finally melted, he was devastated and wouldn’t stop crying for days. Not even his favourite stuffed animals or sweets could cheer him up,” the redhead proceeded to recount, much to Harry’s growing horror.

“Mum!”

“What? It’s only the truth,” Lily countered with a cheeky grin. Apparently, she hadn’t quite reached her daily ‘embarrass your child in front of their partner’ quota yet. Harry burrowed his face in his hands, a muffled groan leaving his lips. He might have been appeased by the kiss to the side of his head, courtesy of Victor, if the traitor weren’t snickering.

“Makkachin, you’re my only remaining friend,” the brunet stated melodramatically, causing the poodle to look up from her resting place next to the loveseat, her tail wagging happily. “Let’s go far, far away from here. How does France sound to you?” Seemingly in response, Makkachin jumped to her paws and started licking Harry’s face.  Grinning widely, the brunet petted her fluffy, brown head, until the embrace around his shoulders tightened noticeably.

“You wouldn’t _really_ leave me for Makkachin, would you?” His boyfriend inquired, pouting.

“I would.” Harry nodded gravely. “You laughed at me, after all.”

“Hmmm… perhaps I should bribe you with some treacle tart then? Or maybe…“ The hand that had, until then, peacefully rested on the brunet’s upper arm slowly slid higher, its fingertips softly caressing Harry’s neck as Victor, the shameless flirt, leant close to his ear. “… you’d rather like a more personal apology, drakonchik?” Harry couldn’t help shuddering and closing his eyes, when the other man’s fingers easily found the weak spot just behind his ear and took full advantage of it.

“Skating! We were talking about skating!” Sirius shouted suddenly, his voice bordering on the edge of panic. Surprised, Harry blinked his eyes back open and looked at a mix of horrified, resigned and amused expressions. The brunet felt blood rush to his head in embarrassment as he caught the hand still wandering over his skin with his own and settled them, intertwined, on his lap.

“Right… skating.” Harry cleared his throat and quickly flipped through the next few pages of the scrapbook, which all featured the beginning of his figure skating career. His interest had been kindled a few months after his first ice skating experience, when his parents had taken him to the ice rink closest to their home. Apparently the brunet had seen a few girls doing some easy tricks and decided to try them out himself. He had been unsuccessful, of course, almost breaking his arm, but one thing had led to another and barely two weeks later he had become a member of NISA, the National Ice Skating Association of Great Britain and North Ireland, and started the Skate UK programme to learn the basics of figure skating. To the astonishment of many, his family among them, he had basically breezed through the test levels and therefore completed the programme in record time.

That’s when his parents had decided to look for a coach, who would give him private lessons instead of the group lessons he had attended beforehand. In the end, they had decided on Couch Mary Steepleton, a half-blood witch who was known for her strict and challenging, but still quite reasonable and effective training. Even after all these years of knowing her, Harry was still a bit scared of her, to be honest.

“Hm, I almost forgot that she used to have dark hair. She’s all grey now,” the brunet mused as he peered at a photograph of Coach Mary and himself at age seven, which had been taken at a small, unofficial competition.

“Everyone would be after spending so much time with you. Just look at poor Victor,” Acacia chimed in and answered her brother’s glare with a cheeky grin.

“He’s silver-blond, idiot. And his hair looks fine just the way it is.” Harry gently squeezed his slightly affronted looking boyfriend’s hand, knowing that Victor was conscious of his hair and low-key afraid of ending up bald one day. “Now apologise.”

Noticing that, instead of teasing her brother as intended, she had actually insulted another person, Acacia slumped down and contritely lowered her eyes.

“I’m sorry Victor. You have very pretty hair, kind of like a veela,” the brunette mumbled, but then seemed to realise how the second part of her apology could be construed and hastily added to it. “But… uh… I don’t mean you _look like a woman_ , not that there’s anything _wrong_ with that, of course, just, I mean… uhm… You’re very _handsome_ and-“

“Okay, I understand. You’re forgiven,” Victor interrupted with a somewhat fake looking smile that only Harry seemed to recognise as such. He wasn’t even surprised by it, because although the blond _had_ probably forgiven her, the Russian tended to sulk if someone hit a nerve. Acacia either didn’t notice or plainly ignored Victor’s lukewarm response as she smiled back in relief.

Uttering a barely audible sigh, Harry directed his gaze back to the book in his lap and promptly had to smile. One full page was dedicated to the present he had got on his ninth birthday. It was, to date, the most extravagant one and he had never stopped cherishing it. His whole family had worked together to build him a private ice rink where the empty horse stables used to be. It was only half the size of normal ice rinks, but it was more than big enough to practice jumps, steps and spins or work on a programme.

Harry was really lucky to have a family like this, one who had supported his wish of becoming a professional figure skater since the very beginning. They had always cheered him on and helped removing the obstacles on his way to fulfil his dream.

Hogwarts had been one of the bigger ones, because going to a boarding school in the middle of nowhere made it kind of hard to keep up with one’s training. Even before the brunet had got his Hogwart’s letter, his parents had requested a meeting with Headmaster Dumbledore and Deputy Headmistress McGonagall to talk about the possibilities. In the end, Harry had been led to a special room in the castle, the Room of Requirements, which turned into whatever the one calling for it wanted, even an ice rink. He had got permission to train in said room and go to competitions (mostly later when he turned fourteen and could compete internationally), if he adhered to some rules.

First and foremost, he hadn’t been allowed to tell another student about the Room of Requirements or abuse his privileges. When using the Room of Requirements, another person or a house elf had to be present in case of a serious accident and, last but not least, keeping up with his school work and achieving acceptable grades (at least an average of Exceeds Expectations) had been an absolute must.

Harry had quickly and happily agreed and been overjoyed when Coach Mary had assented to coming to Hogwarts twice a week.

“What are these ones about?” Victor inquired, tilting his head to the side and pointing at a couple of moving photographs, which had been taken of the Black Lake during Harry’s first winter in Hogwarts.

“Well…”

* * *

 

Skating on an in-door ice rink was brilliant enough, but being able to do it beneath a blue sky in the middle of winter was still a million times better. So when the weather in the Scottish Highlands grew cold enough to freeze large parts of the Black Lake, Harry happily grabbed his skates to spent his Sunday morning outside.

He was just gliding idly over the ice during the first hour and doing a spin or two, instead of working on his triple loop, like he was supposed to. Finally, the voice in the back of Harry’s head – which sounded suspiciously like his coach -  became too annoying and he started his training in earnest.

Slowly but surely a group of spectators gathered at the lakeshore, which he pretty much ignored until an annoying voice rose above the general chatter.

“I don’t understand why you all think Potter’s so awesome! It’s nothing special, everyone could do that!”

To Harry’s surprise the whinger wasn’t a Slytherin but a Hufflepuff called Zacharias Smith, who had started Hogwarts at the same time as him.

Instead of getting angry (at least on the outside), the brunet skated closer to the lakeshore and smiled calmly at the other boy.

“I’m sure you’re brilliant and I’d like to see your skills personally. Can you please show them to me?”

Smith was gaping at him like a fish, his head quickly turning red under the curious eyes of the people around him.

Visibly sweating, the blond pointed at Harry’s skates. “I… uh…I don’t have those, otherwise I’d show everyone here that you’re no big deal, Potter.”

Still smiling, the brunet looked over the other boy’s shoulder and waved at their Charms Professor.

“Hi Professor Flitwick, would you mind conjuring or transfiguring a pair of skates for Zacharias? I can show you mine as reference.”

While Smith flinched and turned white as a sheet, Professor Flitwick stepped forward with twinkling eyes that reminded Harry rather of Headmaster Dumbledore.

“Oh, no problem, Mr. Potter, let me take a quick look. Hm, yes, it should be…and…ah, here we go,” after mumbling a few words and waving his wand in an intricate pattern, Flickwick held an almost identical pair of skates in his hands. “They even have a resizing charm, so they should fit no matter which shoe size the wearer has. Within reason, of course.” With a quirk of his lips, that was more smirk than an actual smile, the professor held the skates up to Smith.

Said boy turned, if possible, even whiter and suddenly pressed a hand over his mouth, before he quickly dashed back into the direction of the castle.

“Hm… looks like he wasn’t feeling well,” Harry commented innocently as he gazed after the blond. “Too bad.”

“I… I would like to try, please.”

The brunet blinked and scanned the crowd for the person who had spoken. It turned out to be another Hufflepuff, though a girl this time. If Harry remembered correctly, her name was Susan Bones.

He smiled at her, genuinely this time, and pointed to the skates.

“Sure, put those on and I’ll show you what to do.”

Harry probably wouldn’t have offered his help had he known that after Susan more than a dozen other students wanted to try, as well, effectively keeping him away from completing his training for the day. Or that it would turn out to be his dreadful nickname’s birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drakonchik is a Russian pet name meaning little dragon


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any figure skating related things (like how the competitions work) leave you confused or you have any other questions, feel free to contact me.

To be completely honest, Harry was still kind of fascinated that he had managed to graduate school. Between competitions, training and his education, the brunet had been kept quite busy during his Hogwarts years. Especially his fifth and seventh year had been a living hell due to the OWLs and NEWT exams.

The constant struggle to keep up with everything had been worth it, however. Otherwise he never would have met Victor for starters and that was a very hard concept to grasp. Even though they hadn’t become a couple until a few years later, they had known each other for about a decade now.

Their story had begun during his fourth year, Harry pondered as he stared at a photograph of his first ever Junior Grand Prix Final. While his school mates and the faculty had eagerly anticipated the start of the Triwizard Tournament and the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbaton, the brunet had been in the midst of his international debut.

Similar to the Senior Grand Prix, the participants of the Junior equivalent had to take part in two of several Grand Prix affiliated competitions and only the six highest-ranking skaters overall had the chance to assert themselves in the Junior Grand Prix Final.

Harry had been chosen for JGP Budapest, which had begun in late August and ended three days into the new school year, and JGP The Hague in early October. He had won silver (mostly due to nerves) and gold respectively and secured himself a spot in the Final.

There he had seen Victor for the first time...

* * *

 

Finishing his short program, Harry was in second place. It wasn't yet time to celebrate, however, because two other finalists still had the chance to knock him off the figurative winner's podium of the day. The first of them ended up in sixth place due to a pretty bad fall, which made the brunet wince in sympathy, but as soon as the last contestant entered the ice, all other thoughts were blown away from his mind.

Looking at Victor Nikiforov, another first time contender in the Junior Grand Prix, was like looking at a veela. If there were any male ones, anyway. Silvery blond, long hair, pale skin and cerulean eyes - those were all traits the Russian shared with the ethereal females who had acted as Bulgaria's mascots at the most recent Quidditch World Cup or even with Beauxbaton's Triwizard champion Fleur Delacour, who happened to be one quarter veela. The white, feathery costume, whose blue rhinestones were glittering in the spotlights, emphasised the similarities even more.

Transfixed, the brunet watched as Victor gracefully glided over the ice, not only going through his spins and step-sequences with apparent ease, but also performing the highest, cleanest triple Flip Harry had seen as of yet in their age group. The brunet was actually so taken by the performance that he only noticed his own gaping when the music stopped.

He clicked his mouth shut at once.

Nope, this wouldn't do at all! The Russian may be (very) good, but Harry wasn't a half-bad figure skater, either. Even if Victor finished the short program with a better score than him, the brunet would be fighting tooth and nail to beat the blond in the free skate.

Having made up his mind, Harry turned around and determinedly walked away from the rink.

* * *

 

The next morning, Harry was more than ready to perform his routine in the free skate and beat Victor Nikiforov on the ice like he kicked Draco Malfoy's arse in a duel during Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. Unfortunately, the scores of the previous day meant he was the fourth to skate yet again, but his determination wouldn't suffer because of it!

Concentrating on the music coming from his earbuds, the brunet took deep breaths and basically ignored the world around himself, until Coach Mary laid a hand on his shoulder.

"It's almost your turn, kid. Get ready to show them what you've got!"

Harry just nodded and unzipped his jacket, which he shrugged out of and handed to his coach. He had dreamt about participating in an international competition for a long time and almost as long ago the brunet had decided to add some magic to it. Not actual one, of course, but his free skate routines would be based on magical creatures.

For his debut, Harry had decided on dragons (the Hungarian Horntail in particular, not that the muggles would be able to tell), the fiercest creatures he knew of and the brunet's way to symbolise that he was a force to be reckoned with. The search for an appropriate song had been a long one and he was half-tempted to get custom-made music for his next routine. In the end, he had settled on Invincible by Two Steps From Hell, which had come the closest to what he had been looking for.

Another tough decision had been his costume. It couldn't be too obstructive, otherwise he'd be at a disadvantage, but the brunet had wanted it to look as recognisable as possible. And it was. The tailor who had made his costume was a genius, Harry was sure of it. Not only was the fabric patterned and accentuated to look like authentic black, shimmering scales, she had even worked some bronze spikes and a pair of wings into the outfit, without making it heavy or obstructive.

The best part of his costume, however, were the bracers, which had been made with real Hungarian Horntail scales. Ironically enough, the first Triwizard Tournament task had involved dragons and therefore Ron's brother Charlie, who happened to be a dragon handler, had been at Hogwarts. The redhead didn't know a thing about figure skating, but when he had heard that Harry was using a 'dragon theme' for something, he had been quite curious. The brunet had decided to indulge him by skating his routine in full costume on the Black Lake, which had, surprisingly, led to Charlie asking his colleagues in Romania for some lose scales from the Hungarian Horntail they cared for. He'd cherish those bracers even after the costume was stowed away in the back of his wardrobe or a cardboard box.

Harry confidently stepped onto the ice and skated leisurely for a minute or two to get used to it again, before he stopped at the centre of the ice rink to wait for the music to start.

When the beginning of Invincible finally sounded from the speakers, the brunet blocked out the audience and focussed his mind on the fierce creatures he had seen just a month prior - their majestic size, the strong beat of their wings and the heat of their flames, which he had felt even from the other side of the arena. Meanwhile his body moved through the quick step sequences, the even quicker spins and the planned jumps.

By the end of his performance, Harry was gasping for breath and a bit shaky, but quite proud of his achievement. Although his normal jumps could have been a bit higher and the execution of his triple Salchow-triple Loop combination a little cleaner, he hadn't made a real mistake. No matter which place would be his at the end of the competition, the brunet was sure he had beat his personal best, at least.

Smiling widely, he bowed to the applauding audience and waved at his family, which had come to cheer him on as usual. When he finally turned around to get off the ice and to the kiss and cry to receive his score, Harry was momentarily startled by the intense gaze directed at him by none other than Victor Nikiforov, who would be up next. The brunet quickly composed himself and directed a challenging grin at the blond, before he left the rink.

* * *

 

Harry had indeed beat his personal best score, but sadly he had still ended up with a bronze medal. Losing against a seventeen year old, who had managed to land a quad in his free skate, wasn't so bad, but the brunet had really hoped to win against Victor, who had taken the second place.

Sipping a bit morosely at his non-alcoholic sparkling cider, Harry studied the other guests, who had come to the Grand Prix Banquet. Most of them were standing around in small groups, chatting or posing for photographs, other were playing wallflower. What finally caught the brunet's attention was a duo next to the buffet – Maurice Beckston, the gold medallist of this year's competition, and Victor. While the former was smirking and wittering on, the Russian nibbled at some finger food, looking utterly bored and a bit annoyed.

His curiosity piqued, Harry wandered over to them and perused the selection of food, while he tried to eavesdrop as inconspicuously as possible. Where was his invisibility cloak when he needed it?

“...and that's how I won the Junior Grand Prix Final two times in a row and the World Junior Championship once. But if you train hard, maybe you'll get to be a Junior champion, too, in a few years. A quad Loop will still be too difficult for you, so perhaps try your hand at a quad Toeloop. You should also get rid of that girly hair, it-”

“Amazing, but vhy haff you never reached the final of a Senior competition?” Victor finally interrupted the condescending drivel and directed a seemingly innocent smile at the idiot. Harry wasn't fooled by it, but he wasn't so sure about Beckston, who hadn't lost his smug smirk, yet. It did look a bit strained now, however.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Hm, someone of your _amazing_ _skills_ should be able to vin a Senior competition, too, yes? Or at least do vell, but I think you haff never reached the Senior Grand Prix Final or haff been selected for the Vorld Championship by your country. It's curious.” For a moment the blond tapped his bottom lip with a fingertip, before he shrugged indifferently and selected a mini-quiche from the buffet.

Instead of taking a bite out of it, however, Victor nonchalantly turned away from Beckston, who was gaping at the Russian in shock, and held the quiche out to Harry with a smile.

“You should start with this, if you can't decide. It's very good.”

The brunet blinked at the other teen (who was even more stunning up close) in surprise and glanced sheepishly at his still empty plate , before he reluctantly took the offering, which landed in his mouth in short order.

Huh, it really _was_ tasty.

“Uh... thanks.” Harry didn't know whether the blond had noticed his eavesdropping or really just wanted to issue a recommendation, but as long as Victor didn't mention the former, the brunet would assume the latter.

Which was a... nice gesture, to be honest. A lot nicer than that posturing of Maurice Beckston, who had cleared off to... somewhere. Harry wasn't in any hurry to find out. At any rate, the brunet should probably be more courteous, as well, starting with stomping down on the lingering feeling of envy. He had won a bronze medal in his first international competition and the score difference between Victor and him hadn't been large anyway. Also, there was still the World Junior Championship in March.

“Congratulations, by the way. Your performances were really great, especially the triple Flip.” And now that he thought about it... “You can probably land a quad Flip, can't you?” the brunet wondered and squinted suspiciously at the other teen, who curiously tilted his head to the side.

“Vhat makes you think that?”

“Besides the perfectly executed triple Flip?” Harry dead-panned and raised both eyebrows – He was still working on doing it with just one, but hadn't managed to far.

“Thank you! Yes, I can land it most of the time, but my coach von't let me do quads in competitions until my Senior debut,” the blond commented with a small frown marring his forehead. Oh Merlin, Victor was honest-to-goodness pouting, Harry couldn't believe it.

Fortunately for everyone, the other teen's mood quickly switched back to a more positive one, though. “I only saw the end of your short program, but your free skate routine vas great, very creative and inspiring.” And there it was again, the same intense look Harry had noticed in those cerulean eyes just after he had finished his routine two days prior. “I'm looking forvart to your routines at the Vorld Junior Championships!”

Harry was rendered speechless. It was no secret, at least to himself, that Victor was his chosen rival, but apparently the feeling wasn't entirely one-sided. Slowly but surely the brunet's bemused smile transformed into an excited grin.

“I'm looking forward to yours, too, you know? Let's prevent Beckston from reaching first place again, alright? He's insufferable enough as it is. And...” Mirroring his challenging grin from the other day, Harry winked at the other boy. “I'm pretty motivated to get that Junior World Champion title, so you better give it your all, if you want to beat me.”

“Of course! I'll prepare-” Victor's response was cut short by a request for a photograph of them, which then led to an impromptu photo shoot with all Junior and Senior Grand Prix Final contestants in various combinations . A rather time-consuming undertaking that left Harry with barely any time, before he had to return to Hogwarts.

But one thing was for sure – The World Junior Championship was bound to be interesting.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a belated Valentine's Day chapter with an extra load of fluff.

“That’s still my favourite routine of yours,” Victor mused, adoringly regarding a photograph of his lover during the ‘dragon performance’. 

“I know,” Harry whispered back, the corners of his mouth forming a soft smile and the beautiful emerald eyes sparkling as he lifted their still entwined hands up to press a kiss onto the blond’s knuckles.  “That’s why I showed it to you again.”

* * *

 

“…-ke up, sleepyhead.”

“Hmmh… yeshche pyat’ minut… (five more minutes),” Victor mumbled in protest to being pulled out of dreamland and burrowed his face deeper into his pillow.

“Nope, now. Come on, I’ve got coffee and breakfast.” A familiar weight settled down on the back of his thighs without further ado and his left cheek and bare shoulder were being peppered with soft kisses. The blond sleepily blinked his eyes open and tilted his head to the side to catch the next oncoming kiss with his lips instead of it landing on his cheek.

“Good morning, drakonchik.”

“Good morning.” Another kiss brushed the corner of his mouth, before Harry gave him enough room to roll on his back, which he promptly did. When the brunet settled back down on Victor’s thighs, the blond noticed the other man’s state of dress and lightly tugged on one sweatshirt cord with a frown.

“How long have you been up?” A short glance to the alarm clock revealed that it wasn’t even nine o’clock, yet, and considering neither of them had training today, it would have been the perfect chance for a lie in. Theoretically, at least.

“An hour or two. I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I went on a walk with Makkachin and made you breakfast in bed.” The brunet rolled off of him and retrieved their foldable bed tray from the foot of the bed, which was then placed over the blond’s lap. Next to the promised coffee was a generous selection of Victor’s favourite breakfast foods, among them blinies, fruit kefir and croissants. There was also a single, red rose on the far end of the tray, carefully arranged next to the tableware. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

Victor was kind of melting into a puddle of happiness on the inside. While he _would have_ liked being the one surprising _Harry_ with freshly made breakfast in bed instead, his sappy side was still quite thrilled with the current situation.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Victor cupped the other man’s already clean-shaven cheek with the palm of his hand and slowly swiped the pad of his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip, before he leant forward and replaced his finger with his own lips. The brunet eagerly returned the kiss, tempting him to deepen it, but then Victor’s stomach decided to make itself known rather loudly.

Snickering softly, Harry pulled back, while the blond pouted. Couldn’t his stomach have waited another five to ten minutes? Sighing deeply, Victor leant back again and cut a piece of bliny off, which he then shoved into his mouth.

“Vkusno! (Delicious!)”

The brunet wasn’t a particularly gifted cook, but he _had_ put in a lot of effort to master a few selected dished, which happened to be Victor’s favourites. He speared another piece with his fork and held it up to Harry’s mouth.

“You haven’t eaten, yet, have you?”

“Not really.” A slight smile was teasing the brunet’s lips, before the bite disappeared into his mouth. And just like that they shared the food until nothing but a few grapes were left. When they had put the empty tray aside, Victor started to rummage in his night console’s drawer and finally pulled a neatly wrapped package out of it.

“I hope, you’ll like it.” Though he was pretty sure that he’d chosen well.

Harry accepted the present with a smile and a ‘thank you’, then got rid of the wrapping paper. Beneath a bar of toffee chocolate was an intricately carved box, which the brunet curiously opened. Victor watched in satisfaction as Harry’s eyes steadily grew bigger and grinned as the other man directed his wide-eyed gaze at him.

“It’s an authentic merman’s necklace for your new free skate theme,” the blond confirmed the unasked question and burst into amused laughter when he was tackled and once again showered in kisses.

Since his first ‘magical routine’, Harry had always managed to incorporate one piece of the creature or being he wanted to portray into his costume- be it scales, feathers or an accessory. The new theme was ‘merfolk’, although the ones actually living in the seas and oceans, not the type inhabiting the lake at Harry’s former school. Apparently it was like comparing house elves and high elves. Unfortunately, the former merfolk hadn’t been seen for almost two centuries, therefore making acquiring anything related to them a bit difficult.

“Where’d you find that? I looked everywhere, but found nothing more than cheap imitations.”

“That-,” Victor started, grinning mischievously. “-is a secret,” he finished, winking and tapping the brunet’s nose with his index finger. Harry was apparently too happy to get offended, however, because he just continued beaming.

“It’s brilliant, thank you! Of course, I’ve prepared something for you, too. You’ve got to get dressed for it, though.  And I’m afraid we’ll have to apparate, sorry.”

The blond grimaced slightly. By now he was no longer feeling nauseous after side-along apparating, but it was still one of the worst means of travel he’d ever experienced. He nodded resignedly and got up to make himself presentable.  

After a quick shower – short hair was so much easier to take care of – and putting on jeans, a jumper and shoes, Harry appeared next to him with something looking suspiciously like a blindfold. He quirked an eyebrow and pointedly eyed the black fabric and then the brunet.

“Just what have you planned? If you wanted me to wear something more risqué, you should have told me beforehand,” Victor teased as Harry deftly fastened the piece of cloth around his head, effectively stealing his vision. The brunet snorted in amusement, but didn’t comment.

“Ready?”

Victor was never ready when it came to apparition, but he nodded anyway. In the next moment arms wrapped around his shoulders and they were on their merry way. Upon arriving at their destination, the blond took a few deep breaths and waited for the dizziness to pass. Harry was rubbing his back and when he started to feel a bit better, the brunet took his hands and carefully led him forwards.

“Alright, just give me a minute to prepare, please.” To Victor’s surprise, the brunet sounded a bit nervous, but what was the reason? His remaining senses were telling him that this was an ice rink, albeit a seemingly empty one considering the silence around them. Was Harry going to skate?

“Okay, you can take the blindfold off now.”

Victor undid the knot and blinked a few times to get used to the light again. There was indeed an ice rink in front of him and Harry was wearing a costume the blond would recognise everywhere and anytime. It was the first thing that had grabbed his attention and made him take notice of Harry’s free skate routine during their first Junior Grand Prix Final.

The whole theme and its execution had been like a beacon of creativity and daring amongst the boring, clichéd, performances he had seen in the competition until then. Victor had wanted to witness what else the brunet would come up with, but the ‘dragon routine’ was the only one he had had access to for quite a few months. The blond didn’t even know how many times he had watched the recording of it, hoping that the next routine would be just as inspired, that Harry would be someone to keep him on his toes, because winning had been far too easy before his international debut and the qualification rounds for the Junior Grand Prix hadn’t been much better.

Putting his hope on Harry and talking to the brunet teen during the Grand Prix Banquet all those years ago had never been decisions he had regretted. On the contrary, Victor didn’t want to imagine what his life, both professional and private, would have been like without the man, who was currently entering the rink.

For a moment Harry skated around for a short warm-up and finally stopped in the centre of the ice, offering him a lopsided grin.

“Can you please push the play button?”

Victor did as asked, his fingers squeezing the black cloth still in his hand in anticipation and his eyes firmly focussing on the brunet. Moments later the first notes of Invincible sounded from the speakers and Harry’s expression turned from slightly nervous to determined as he started his performance.

The brunet had added to the difficulty level of his jumps and spins and his movements were a lot more refined nowadays, but otherwise the performance was just like the one burnt into his mind’s eye. The blond barely blinked as Harry twirled over the ice, the leathery fabric on his back trailing after him like the wings they were supposed to represent.  The brunet had worked his way through a lot of creatures and beings so far, but the fierceness and power of dragons still fit him the best.

Although the incubus theme of last year’s Grand Prix was a very close second. Victor had never been gladder to acquire fewer points than the brunet in a short program, meaning it had been his turn before Harry had shown that particular routine. Otherwise it would have been very… problematic for him.

As Harry landed his quad Salchow-triple Loop combination and worked his way towards the last spin, Victor slowly moved to the ice rink board’s entrance door, his eyes still firmly fixed on the other man and his heart beating a mile a minute.

When the brunet reached his ending position and joined him at the boards after a short breather, the blond pulled him into a tight embrace, their foreheads resting against each other.

“I might have fallen in love with you all over again.”

“Damn, after all the effort I put into the first time. Now I have to start from the beginning again. Perhaps I still have a backup copy lying around somewhere?” Harry teased softly and got his side pinched in response.

“Hey!” Laughing, the brunet leant back to look into Victor’s eyes. “Ya tebya lyuvlyu. (I love you.)”

“I love you, too.”

“…I’m still going to kick your arse at this year’s World Championship though.”

“Hmh, have fun trying.”


	5. Chapter 5

When Harry flipped to the next page of his new scrapbook, he was once again reminded of the worst month of his school life – March of his fourth year.

Following the pictures of his first Grand Prix Final, there should have been photographs of his first World Junior Championship. Ideally of him winning the gold medal. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what had happened.  The brunet hadn’t even _been_ at the competition.

Shortly after the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, at the end of February, a few students had come down with dragon pox. They had been quickly separated from the rest of the student body and sent to the Magical Bugs ward in St. Mungo’s. The number of ill people had quickly increased anyway and much to his chagrin, Harry had been one of them.

While his family had been quite anxious about his health (his paternal grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, _had_ both died because of dragon pox, after all), Harry had been absolutely devastated for another reason. 

All that training for the Wold Junior Championship for naught.

The words he had exchanged with Victor at the Grand Prix Banquet nothing but empty promises.

In between the itchy, green skin, the fiery sneezes and the general discomfort, the brunet had been so very sure that the Russian would completely lose interest in him. That by the time the next Junior Grand Prix took place, the blond had already found another rival to compete against and refined his skills so much that the brunet had no chance of ever catching up to him.

And yes, he had been a bit overdramatic at that time.

Fortunately, some of those fears had been proven wrong a week into his sickness.

* * *

 

Harry was morosely staring out of the window, when the door to his patient’s room opened. He didn’t bother turning around, however. It was probably a healer, anyway. The person quickly approached his bed and stopped next to it, then a hand ruffled his hair.

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, aren’t you, kid?”

The brunet blinked in surprise and rolled around to look at the newcomer.

“Coach? What are you doing here?” Not even his family was allowed into the ward, because of the high risk of infection.

The blonde woman shrugged and dropped into the chair next to Harry’s bed. “My siblings and I had dragon pox when we were children. It’s not like I can get it a second time, so they let me in. I went to the Junior Worlds and figured you’d want to know how it went.”

Harry’s face darkened, but when he tried to roll towards the window again to sulk, a light stinging hex hit him.

“I know it sucks lying here when you trained so hard for the competition, but moping won’t help you. Just compare your situation to a phoenix; currently you have a burning day, but when you’ve reached your peak at next season’s JGP again, you’re going to kick everyone’s arses, even Nikiforov’s.”

Harry _knew_ it was useless to sulk, but he just couldn’t help it. This whole situation was _utterly_ frustrating. Just lying around, instead of being in Germany and competing was driving him _crazy_.

“He won, didn’t he?”

“If you mean your replacement, then no, he placed twenty-seventh in the short program and didn’t advance to the free skate. Still only one men’s singles entry for next year’s Junior Worlds… But, well, if you mean Victor Nikiforov, then he sure did. Yakov found quite the gem.” A smirk tugged at Mary’s lips. “But so did **_I_**. You’ve got your work cut out for you, but I know you can beat him.”

Harry smiled weakly back at her, but he _did_ feel a bit better, hearing her confidence in him.

“Oh, right, I almost forgot.” The blonde started to rummage in the pockets of her jacket and pulled a miniature package out of it, which she then spelled back to its original size.

“The new Russian Ice Prince to be came up to me and asked after you. When I told him about your health issue, he returned the next day and asked me to give this to you. Now stop staring at it like a deer caught in headlights and _open_ it, kid.”

The brunet tentatively pulled the package closer and opened it curiously. Inside he found a honey jar, two chunks of cheese, a bar of chocolate and a folded sheet of paper. What was it with Victor and food? He shook his head in amusement and unfolded the short letter. 

 

_Hi Harry,_

_I heard from your coach that you’re not feeling well. It’s a pity you couldn’t make it to the World Juniors, it’s a bit boring without you. I was quite looking forward to your performances and actually hoping you’d have at least one new routine. We’ll have to wait until next season’s Junior Final to see who’s made more progress, but like we promised, I kicked that annoying guy (Benton or something?) off first place!_

_Get well soon! :)_

_Love, Victor <3_

_P.S. The foods are Obersdorf specialties. They’re super delicious!_

 

Harry didn’t know what to think or feel. On one hand he was relieved that the Russian hadn’t forgotten him and apparently still saw him as a rival, and on the other hand… Victor had sent him a gift, written a quite friendly letter and… what was up with the heart next to the blond’s name? It was all a bit overwhelming considering he had talked to Victor exactly once.

“Oooh, I see how it is now.”

Harry paused in his contemplation of the letter and shifted his wary gaze to his smirking coach. The blonde leant forward in return and tapped one corner of Harry’s mouth. Only then did the brunet notice that his lips had formed a smile without his say-so. Probably the first one since getting ill.

“Someone has a crush. Ah, to be young again…”

  
“I- I don’t!” the brunet spluttered and tried to beat down the flush of embarrassment, but given Mary’s increasing amusement, he wasn’t all too successful… or convincing in his denial.

“Oh? Who said I was talking about you, kid?”

* * *

“Harry? _Harry_!”

Said wizard flinched in surprise and blinked a few times as his mind returned to the present. Finally his gaze wandered to his mother’s face, which showed both amusement and worry.

“Yes?”

“You were looking off into space. Are you alright, sweetie?”

“Oh… sorry, I was just thinking about the time I had dragon pox,” Harry replied with a wry grin, which was mirrored on his father’s face.

“I remember that time. We were trying to sneak into your ward, but your mother found out and… let’s say it didn’t end well,” James recounted and grimaced in what was probably remembered pain.

“Wasn’t it around the time we made that bet with Mary?” Sirius mused and yelped when Remus none too gently stomped on his foot. “What the bloody hell, Moony?” The werewolf rolled his eyes and nodded, more discreetly this time, in Harry’s direction, making Sirius realise that he’d put his foot into his mouth. “Oh…”

Harry narrowed his eyes at them. “Bet? What bet are you talking about?” He didn’t know anything about a bet and considering the people involved, it couldn’t be good.

“Uh… did I say bet?” Sirius laughed rather unconvincingly and scratched the back of his head. “I meant _batter_.  We were making a cake and- okay okay! We were making a bet about how long it would take you two to get together, now _please_ put your wand away, Harry!”

The brunet didn’t put it away, but he lowered it as he face palmed.  They had made a _bet_ about his _love life_ when he had been a mere _fourteen years old_. His own family and his coach!

Although… he probably shouldn’t be surprised, knowing all of them.

“Wow, who did win?” And had he mentioned, yet, that Victor had no shame whatsoever? Harry loved him. Really, he did, but sometimes he had the strongest urge to smother the blond with a pillow.

“Uh… that would be me.”

Groaning, Harry peered through his splayed fingers to give Remus the most unimpressed look he could muster.

“Hey, don’t just look at _me_ like that, when everyone else participated, as well. Your mother was only off by three months!” The tawny-haired man pointed out and looked like he regretted his words at once. In the light of his Lily’s death-glare, he certainly had a good reason to.

“I hate all of you,” Harry decided and pointedly looked back down to the scrapbook and therefore to the photographs of his second Junior Grand Prix Final.

* * *

 “Harry!”

One moment said brunet was entering the men’s changing room to get ready for the Grand Prix Final practice round, in the next he found himself in a tight embrace. He hadn’t quite recognised the voice calling his name, but the silver blond, long hair in Harry’s field of view was a dead giveaway anyway.

“Uhm… hello Victor? It’s nice to see you again, too.” The brunet was a bit…startled by the enthusiastic welcome. Sure, they had exchanged a few more letters and even a couple of E-Mails when Harry had been home during summer holidays, but did that really justify this overly friendly hug? Considering the wide-eyed looks of their fellow cmpetitors, the Russian hadn’t greeted any of _them_ like this, either. But, well, it wasn’t like he _minded_ being hugged like this by Victor. It was actually quite nice…

The blond squeezed him one last time, before letting go and backing off a bit. That, unfortunately, brought Harry to the next predicament, because being subjected to Victor’s dazzling smile couldn’t be good for his poor heart. Perhaps the other teen was trying to get rid of the competition by turning him into a puddle of goo?

„How vas your flight? Do you like St. Petersburg so far?“

„My journey here was alright.“ Though Harry _had_ arrived by portkey, not by plane. „I arrived late yesterday evening, so I haven’t seen much more than the hotel and the sight from the transfer bus while driving to the ice rink,“ the brunet explained, while dropping his sports bag on a bench and unzipping his winter coat.

„Hmm...“ Victor tapped his lips in thought and raised that finger for emphasis, when he’d apparently come to a decision. „Tomorrow’s the short program and on Friday the free skate, so except for the exhibition, ve’re mostly free on Saturday. I can give you a tour of city tour, if you vant.“

Completely ignoring the still gaping boys (or young man, in Beckston’s case), Harry beamed at the blond and nodded. „Sure, sounds great.” And it _really_ did, both the sightseeing and the chance to get to know the other teen better. It was just a pity they wouldn’t be able to visit St. Petersburg’s magical district, but perhaps Harry would have some time for that on Sunday before the banquet. “You know, it’s not as cold here as I had expected. It was actually colder back in Scotland.“

Victor shrugged.

„It’s a varm winter so far, it vill probably get colder in January.“

The brunet hummed in acknowledgement, then concentrated on changing into his UK track suite and lacing his skates. When he was finished, Harry put his bag into a locker and turned back around.

„Well, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?“

* * *

Being the first to perform one’s short program and still remaining in first place(even if just by the skin of one’s teeth) after everyone else had had their turn was an unbelievably exhilarating and invigorating feeling. It left Harry even more determined to perform a perfect free skate and win that gold medal.

The brunet didn’t bother watching the first four routines. Only when it was Victor’s turn to awe the jury, did Harry pull his earbuds out and approach the boards of the ice rink. He had been up in the gallery during the blond’s short program, therefore too far away for the other teen to hear him, but fortunately he didn’t have the same problem now.

„Udachi! (Good luck!)“

The benefits of sharing one’s school with quite a few Russians for almost a year was picking up a bit of their language. His relatively new knowledge especially came in handy in times like this, when one word managed to create a slightly wide-eyed but delighted expression on Victor’s face. The smile on the blond’s lips quickly turned into a challenging grin, however, and the look in his cerulean eyes sharpened to the intense gaze Harry had seen directed at himself once or twice. Then Victor entered the rink to awe not only the jury but Harry, as well.

It came as a surprise to no one when the name ‘Victor Nikiforov’ ended up at the top of the leader board, with a ridiculous point difference to second place no less. Harry refused to be intimidated by the blond’s score, though and calmly shrugged out of his jacket, while the sweepers collected the presents Victor had been gifted with. For someone who had only entered international competitions a year ago, there were quite a few gifts strewn across the ice.

The brunet acknowledged Victor’s ‘Good luck!’ with a smile, but as soon as his blades hit the ice, Harry tried to shut out everything that wasn’t part of his performance. He briefly touched his good-luck charm, one of Fawkes’ red-gold feathers ( _not_ the one from his wand), which was attached to his chest, and assumed his slightly huddled starting position.

Contrary to Invincible, ‘Rise and Fall of a Phoenix’ started softly, just as fragile as a phoenix chick after its burning day. The first few seconds were composed of slower step sequences and arm movements, but as the chick grew older, the music picked up its pace and so did the choreography. The first jump was a triple Salchow, which flowed into a combination spin as the phoenix approached adulthood. This was where Harry performed the bulk of the more difficult elements, among them a triple Lutz - triple Toeloop combination and his favoured triple Loop, which he had developed into a tano jump (one arm raised overhead) for extra points.  Finally the tune of the song turned heartrending, as the next burning day approached and ultimately took place with a bang and a flying sit spin. Afterwards, the first few sounds from the beginning of the song sounded from the speakers, symbolising yet again a new beginning, but they soon faded as the brunet assumed his end position, which mirrored the one he had started with.

Breathing heavily, Harry bowed to the applauding audience, then skated towards the boards to receive his score at the kiss and cry. On the way he spotted a stuffed toy that looked suspiciously like a Hungarian Horntail. Apparently he had some magical fans outside of Hogwarts, who had recognised which dragon his costume had represented during last year’s Final.  Smiling in amusement, the brunet picked it up and joined his coach off the ice, after putting on his blade guards.

“Good job, kid. I couldn’t spot a single mistake.” As she was wont to do, Mary ruffled his hair, before she pushed him down onto the bench and sat next to him. Harry’s fingers flexed around the plush dragon in his hands as he nervously waited for his scores to appear on the screen in front of him and when they did, it took a few seconds for his brain to catch up with his eyes.

He had beat Victor’s total score by 1.23 points and won the gold medal.


End file.
